


Clearing The Skies Together

by Arendellecitizen, softly_speaking_valkyrie



Series: Collabs With Val [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Moira, Abusive Relationship, Cuddling, Cute, F/F, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Leaving Abuser, Lesbians, Lots of Cuddling, Mental Abuse, Pharmercy, Toxic Relationship, Toxicity, canon-ish AU, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arendellecitizen/pseuds/Arendellecitizen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: Humanitarian Of The Year, Angela should be happy at that title, but part of her feels empty. Her partner Moira is making her moves again and she can’t take it anymore. Maybe down in the party, there will be a good surprise waiting for her. A surprise in the form of a familiar face. (Pharmercy, Canon-ish AU, Fluff/Hurt/Comfort, Collab with Val)





	Clearing The Skies Together

The lights of the Oasis were shining out of the window, a marvellous technological metropolis if there ever was one. It was so incredible - a true jewel of sublime teal and aqua, ornamented with stunning diamonds and glittering gold, a watering hole of beauty in a small desert. Oasis suited its name, and all agreed it was a splendid destination to wine and dine with the billionaires and high rollers of the world. Only a few locales around the world were like this - Vegas, New Los Angeles (the alternate universe and film set of the world), and even London the more and more it was built up and retrofitted.

But Angela loved Oasis more than the swarming cities of other countries. She barely enjoyed visiting Vegas for galas and events, she found the place tackey and strapped together with a history of awful and corrupt gambling and organised violence and extortion. New LA was similar, gripped and strangled to death by greedy film-makers and looking dirty underneath, amidst the glamour and sparkles of the booming movie industry.

Others, like Hana and Lucio, even Mei, loved it, but Angela could never see the appeal. But with Oasis, she could it see it readily apparent.

On top of the balcony overlooking the main city of the place, even seeing the baking desert on the horizon, getting the final few hours of sun as it dipped, Angela Ziegler was leaning on the railing and sighing in bliss at the view. She was wearing a splendid silver gown with gorgeous bronze accenting the belt, the waistline and her superb shoulders. The bronze made her look godly, like Nike with the shaul of her dress robes covering her breasts beautifully and falling to the floor with grace in a lovely short train. She even had her wings on the dress, being told that them and her combat halo would suit the white and bronze. Angela was not sure it was the right idea, but her partner, Moira, always had a knack for directing Angela and her talents. The two had been working so closely on this massive project for years. And now they were in Oasis to unveil it to their humanitarian group. A splinter cell of human development.

Angela was alone on the balcony though, Moira was inside and mingling with all the right people. The blonde doctor sighed from a mild emptiness, looking like a solitary angel with her wings and holding a glass of white wine in her hand (Moira was drinking red inside). She had been invited to this humanitarian gala for their medical work, work that been revolutionary all over the globe. But all Angela could think about was how she had come with no one on her arm. She was instead like a trophy for Moira, the taller and more androgynous ginger Irish woman.

Moira had far more ambition than Angela ever could, and mixed ambitions for the direction of their work. It had been all her doing to secure the extreme funding and exorbitant facilities for the pair to conduct the experiments and develop the medicine and technologies. Biochemistry mixed in with nano-tech.

It was going to revolutionise the art of combat medicine and recovery of injured people. Limbs, made from nano-machines that could seemingly become living artificial cells. It was something out of a science-fiction screenplay. And sometimes it scared Angela to be involved in the project - but then Moira would rope her all the way back into it with her infectious persuasion.

They'd slept together a few times after Angela had expressed her concerns. It was Moira's way to pulling her back to the project. Angela wasn't fond of it. Yes, she was into women, but Moira… was just not her type at all. So forceful and possessive.

But parties, while Angela enjoyed them, weren't always her thing, they were always Moira's thing, always a method of smooth talking investors and those could use with the right project to sink cash into. For the betterment of mankind and for the opportunity to give man some solace and improvement - Moira would always pitch. Angela felt sick just thinking about. Being a medical prodigy, she had always been cooped up in her lab.

As she sipped her wine, the more developed medical professional with ginger hair in a white suit jacket, with a dark shirt and pants made her way behind Angela. Her tie was bronze, like the accents of Ziegler's dress, and he was looking full of herself as she rimmed her glass with a slender finger. Her eyes - she had heterochromia. One was orange and the other blue, scanning the area around Angela as she strutted to the balcony.

"Hello, Angela," Moira greeted her partner coldly, the profaned touch of her Irish accent in her voice. It made other women weak at their knees but only made Angela shiver a little upon hearing it. She loved it, adored the Gaelic in her partner's tongue, but by now she had come to feel on edge by it. The sharp blade against her. She stood steadfast against the railing and sipped her wine more.

Angela didn't turn around, she knew who that voice belonged to. "Oh hello, Moira."

The auburn-haired professional slipped in behind her partner and leered at Angela. "I just wanted to say congratulations for your award," she said calmly. "Medical Humanitarian of the Year. A very coveted prize indeed. And no more fitting for a professional such as yourself m'dear. Congratulations indeed… Darling." Moira spoke to her like they were truly a married couple, in fact, Moira had proposed to her once, but Angela rejected her. If she wanted love, she'd find it outside of their work.

The blonde sighed, wondering why Moira had come to see her when there were plenty of other high-rollers inside the gala waiting to have their ears chewed by the sleek and slender woman. "What's your game here?" Angela asked. Moria wasn't exactly her best friend. The resentment was hard on Angela's tongue as she was again thinking of telling the ginger that she wanted out of their little venture. The ceremony was filling her head with doubts about them again.

"Oh nothing really, Doctor," Moira hissed, downing the rest of her glass of Shiraz and licking her thin lips. "Just thought I'd congratulate a fellow colleague and a very dear friend. After all, it should only be two more years before we both are collecting all the awards for our work. Excited, aren't you, love?" The Irish broad snaked closer to her partner. She was oozing in dominance and what appeared to be stenching of drink. How much had she had already?

Angela sipped on her chardonnay, mindful of her surroundings and looking off to the desert again past the city. "Moira, please leave me be." Angela scowled. "You're continuously turning our work into an empire of business and profit. You never care about helping people. All that is your mind is the money and the fame. These frivolous awards." Angela continued, leaning over against the railing. She was saddened and wishing for a knightess in a set of glamorous armour to come and save her from this horrible conversation with Moira. She wanted out, of the project, of the gala, of this life.

"I've become successful, and so have you, this award shows your success in our work, in your own work, love. With the two of us continuing down this line of work, there is nothing we cannot accomplish," Moira reminded her. "And maybe it could entice you to take a step back a little, and notice what you have… With me." The ginger slithered like a siren. Angela felt sick.

In a defiant show of force, she shoved Moira off of her arm, barging her and pointing to her lips as she pressed the taller woman against the railing. "One day you're going to realise that you cannot simply press everyone under your thumb, Moira." Angela scorned the Irish woman, pressing her well-dressed body against hers. The blonde had had enough of this and her wroth was faring up; her wings were spread outwards in a fit of rage. They looked as if she could fly and glide away with the breeze of the desert night wind.

"Oh, I don't know" Moira replied, almost licking Angela's fingers. "I don't call it pressing under my thumb. I call it supporting people to see their full potential. You just haven't seen yours yet, my dear."

Angela shivered again, storming out of the balcony and back into the ballroom. She couldn't take it any longer. Her so-called partner had just ticked her off for the last time. She needed to get away from this horrible woman, hopefully once and for all, hiding in the buzz of the dancers of the gala. Instantly people saw her and wanted to talk to her, but Angela headed right for the punch and food table. She needed another drink and had left her glass on the balcony.

Looking back, she saw Moira smiling and drinking the wine.

As she walked into the ballroom, seeing the guests having fun and enjoying themselves, Angela sighed. All her years of medical work meant that most of the friends she had known hadn't spoken to her in years, and the only one she did speak to was Moira. Members of the first humanitarian group had drifted away - Mei retreating to climatology and being stationed in Antarctica for observations about the planet. In this giant social setting, Angela finally realised how lonely she was, how isolated she had made herself.

But something caught her eye - bright sapphire against a sea of white, gold and black of the other guests.

On the other side of the room, there was a woman, lying against a pillar and sipping from a short glass of what appeared to be soda. The dress she was draped in was grander than Angela's, only with no wings and yet a splendid amber headband across her bold forehead. She had tanned skin and a distinctive tattoo over her right eye - the All-Seeing Eye that Angela had seen before in studies and references to Egypt. There was no doubt that was where she had come from.

She was absolutely stunning. So striking. So profaned.

Angela could not take her eyes from the Egyptian woman across the ballroom, her shimmering sapphire ball gown draping far from her in a beauteous train of soft stain and Egyptian cotton. Doctor Ziegler could tell fabrics when she saw them, that was Egyptian cotton and it suited the tanned and tall, slender woman beautifully. Although she looked only the least bit odd in it, her arms muscular and toned like chiselled marble, strength and intensity oozing from her and her biceps. Her pectorals hidden behind her amorous and splendid breasts nestled inside the clutching cleavage of her dress showed more of that strength. Angela began to wonder what such a toned woman would be doing at a humanitarian gala, why she would be here and not somewhere else, somewhere to do with military or politics. The eye tattoo made Angela think that she was someone with a career in the military or some other small defence or task force from Egypt or another Arab nation. But there was no way for her to know without asking the gorgeous specimen of womanhood. Angela was weak at her knees.

There was something about her, something that Angela had seen before in another environment. Another woman maybe? It was the eye tattoo of all things that stood out as familiar to the intrepid prize-winner.

Angela walked over to the woman, putting a smile on her face and swallowing her reservations. She put Moira to the back of her mind and grabbed a glass of wine from a wandering waiter on her way to the tanned woman, smiling as best she could despite the ugly encounter with her co-worker outside. "Hello. Guten Tag!" She greeted the woman in English and her native tongue of Swiss German to be formal.

The woman looked at her all over, her eyes bold and so striking that they made Angela feel both nervous and warm under her dress. This woman was gorgeous, and her face so well defined, as if sculpted and not birthed.

"Hello, Dr Ziegler isn't it? You're the woman who won the award tonight, yes?" The sapphire-dressed woman replied, a thick Arabian accent in her voice. She sounded earthy, but there was accentuation in her words, a signal that English was not her first language, but that she had been speaking it for the majority of her life. Angela swooned at that accent.

"Yes that's me," Angela confirmed, feeling slightly better but her knees still wobbled inside the gown draped over her. "But please, call me Angela. Doctor Ziegler is far too formal for tonight."

The woman raised a splendid and gorgeous eyebrow. "Angela?" She said, almost confused or wondering if the name was actually correct. It seemed too good to be real to the tanned Egyptian woman.

"Why yes, that is my name," Angela affirmed, looking a little confused with furrowed eyebrows. They were primped and proper tonight, and her wings flared a little behind her as if they had their own volition and instincts separate from her own.

"Wait, I remember the name Angela but…" The tanned woman trailed, gathering thought amidst a mind of clouded recollections. "Did you happen to know a woman by the name of Ana Amari?" She asked, clearing herself of the cloudy thoughts and asking Angela the question on her mind. The woman had an inkling that she knew very much who this blonde angel was.

"Yes! Yes, I did! Ana and I were very close." Angela remembered, remembering the darling old woman, she must have been within her sixties or seventies at this point, even Angela was pushing beyond her thirties. She suddenly felt older than she might have been. "She was a dear friend of mine. She was a military officer, but she was so kind to me…" She explained, but then looked, deep into the woman's eyes before her, seeing what she remembered about Ana in them. Ana had had a daughter, a lovely young thing that Angela had doted on until she left the small time group to run with Moira in medical science and experimentation. But now she remembered who this woman was. She was much better endowed than when she had been fourteen. "Wait… Fareeha?"

The woman in the blue dress smiled, a beaming grin that Angela had not seen since the woman was a small child. It was her, it was Ana's daughter. It was Fareeha Amari. "You remember me! I thought you would have forgotten." Fareeha mused, smiling and leaning off of the pillar to take Angela's trembling hands.

Since when was Fareeha so toned and utterly gorgeous?

"It has been a long time since we met last. I probably don't look anything the same as I did back then, Angela." Fareeha mentioned, her cheeks burning under her beautiful and dark skin. It was the biggest understatement Angela had heard. Fareeha was so well developed Angela was beginning to feel guilty thinking about Ana.

"Oh my gosh, I would never have forgotten you, Fareeha!" Angela bellowed, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Fareeha's shoulders, hugging her so closely that the dark-skinned woman almost dropped her drink. "Wow, you've gotten so big! And so muscular." Angela spoke slyly, feeling the swollen bicep of her old friend. "The last time I saw you, you were much shorter." The blonde jabbed, gracing Fareeha's hip with a loving touch of the hand.

Fareeha chuckled, holding Angela's hip a little more wispfully, loving her curves and silently touching her flesh. She held her hand, felt her elbow with a chuckle and touched her hips a lot more. "I've changed a lot over the years." She reminded the doctor, grinning with perfect teeth and such profaned cheekbones. Her jawline was so chiselled, again it made Angela weak. She could not control her urges and held Fareeha's hips permanently with rooted hands. They were sublime to hold, like handlebars.

"What are you doing here?" She asked Fareeha, smiling more vividly than ever. This was mental, insane, miraculous and Angela was singing internally. A little angel and devil on each other shoulders spoke to her.

'Invite her to dinner! Get out of here with her!' The angel told her with wings so flaring and graceful Angela almost listened instantly. 'Should we prepare the ropes?' The devil asked seductively.

Fareeha laughed, holding Angela's hips too, marvelling at their tightness and curvature. She loved them so, loved all of Angela and was secretly undressing her with her eyes. Casting her mind back, Fareeha determined that the blonde had only aged like a fine wine and only minutely since she saw her last."I work for the security branch of a private organisation based in and around these parts - although we're operating mostly all over the world. We are the brains behind Antarctica. Some of my colleagues are providing security for this event. Mr Morrison is heading the detail and he's proven to be quite efficient at his job." She explained at length

"You aren't in uniform though," Angela noticed, gawking at the massive and beautiful sapphire dress that covered Fareeha's assumedly ripped thighs and calves.

"No, the organisers thought that if we were here in full body armour, it might cause a stir amongst the guests, since this is supposed to be a party about peace and human advancement, it's hardly an appropriate place for armed guards," She answered. "Even the men are dressed in formal attire." Fareeha gestured to one of the punch bowls at a man with grey hair and red aviators, an obvious holster and six-shooter in it. He was even wearing a ten-gallon hat and one of his arms was a fairly basic prosthesis, with opposable fingers.

As Angela looked at him, she could only think about fixing his arm, with her nanomachine technology still cooped up in the lab in Germany. It would take that arm and put it to shame with the advancement.

"Even Jesse McCree is in a tuxedo," Fareeha commented, and gestured to another man, again, silver-haired but fairly plain, although with a jawline that could be used as a hammer. "Mr Morrison hates suits."

Angela looked at all these men, Mr McCree, Mr Morrison, a Mr Reyes in the corner, even a sentry bot was in a suit near the main doorway. Fareeha referred to it as 'Bastion'. "That does make sense," Angela admitted. Angela herself was a pacifist and strongly opposed violence, but she could see how an event of this magnitude, with so many high rollers, could use the security.

A loud cry came from another table, a woman yelling the name 'Emily' with a thick cockney accent, and when both Angela and Fareeha looked, they saw a small woman in a hot white-grey suit with spiked hair meeting with a redhead. Fareeha rubbed her cheek in dismay. "That is Miss Oxton, she's, unfortunately, another member of our organisation," Fareeha told begrudgingly.

"What function does she serve?" Angela chuckled, sipping the glass that was absent in her hand.

Fareeha looked down at the floor, still holding Angela in various places. "She's… The pilot…" They both erupted in a cooperative chuckle and went back to looking longingly into each other's eyes. "Honestly, I wish I had a suit. I feel mildly uncomfortable in this dress," Fareeha admitted, taking confidence in Angela and how she looked. She made it look so easy, the dress of hers almost falling off of her or making her look like some form of goddess. The wings were a strange touch but Fareeha found them oddly charming, she thought they were an oddity and curious touch to the otherwise standard outfit for a woman of Angela's position.

"To be fair, Fareeha, I think it suits you very well," Angela admitted. 'So very, very well,' Angela's shoulder devil told her with a sly smile.

Fareeha smiled. "What would you say to getting out of this place? Perhaps we can catch up? Mull over the old days or fill each other in on what has happened since." The tanned woman suggested, feeling a blush come to her from the compliment. Angela was still the darling and gentle lady that Fareeha remembered from her teenage years. She was still charming and incredibly caring. And she was still fun. Like the cool kind of mother that all children wished to either have for their own, or kiss in the hallway because of an innocent crush. Fareeha suddenly realised she was in the latter grouping - that she always had been in her youth and that she was falling back into now. Angela's lips looked incredibly inviting as she sipped more wine.

Angela looked down, rolling the stem of her glass between sharp fingers and blushing herself. Fareeha had become so beautiful, Angela could not control her wandering thoughts and the angel and devil on her shoulders were not helping. "I'm not sure. I mean… what if they want me to give a speech again later on? And then there is..."

"Don't worry. You look like you could use a healthy distraction, and honestly, so could I." Fareeha told her, trying to calm the blonde down as she was looking crippled under sudden anxiety.

Angela almost snapped back, feeling paranoid. "I don't need a distraction, Fareeha I need to… to…" Angela looked over her shoulder, seeing Moira walking around again, looking for her with her separate eyes and a determined look.

Fareeha looked at Angela, following her gaze to the ginger, and then back to Angela. "Are you okay?" She asked, her tone changing to one of seriousness as she crossed looks between Angela's and Moira more. She instantly settled that she did not like the look Angela was having over Moira, and she was definitely looking at the suited woman.

Angela hugged Fareeha suddenly. "I need to go somewhere private." She whispered desperately into the woman's ear.

"It is okay, Angela. Don't worry." Fareeha reassured her, cuddling the smaller woman back and comforting her, shrouding her in tanned arms and twirling her against the pillar so she was disguised among the sapphire of Fareeha's gown. "Alright. Stay with me, and don't look at her, okay? We're just going to the bathroom, we need to freshen up, understand?" Fareeha asked to check that Angela was getting all of this and so she knew their story.

Luckily, their quickstep to the ladies' was not stopped dead. They entered the bathroom quickly and found a grand stall - they were much bigger here and each one was spacious enough for them to remain in. Fareeha locked the door and held Angela closely in a compassionate cuddle. "Is this okay? Are you okay with being here? We can move to the atrium if need be. Or to the roof. I can call Reyes and McCree over if you need help, Angela." She explained strongly, ready to call in on the small radio in her ear.

Angela breathed deeply, calming herself. "No, this is alright. This is good. This will be fine." She panted, holding her chest as Fareeha held her close to the chest.

Fareeha was the shining knightess Angela was asking for on the balcony. She had been rescued. "What's going on Angela?" Fareeha asked.

The blonde sighed again and broke away from Fareeha to get some air, to explain why she had just almost panicked and died. "My partner… Moira. She's looking for me, no doubt. We had an… Exchange on the balcony. I almost… I almost hit her out there." She confessed, all the horrible images of their disgusting work relationship slipping into the forefront of her mind.

She felt sick from the thoughts of sleeping with Moira all those times. The times over the desks, in the laboratories, in Moira's bed, in Angela's bed. She wanted to gag.

"Is she worried about you?" Beautiful Fareeha checked, coming back to Angela and offering her arms once more. She had no clue.

"No… you see, we don't have the... best relationship, but she just will not leave me alone." Angela continued, gently gagging and leaning over the sink. She exhumed foul air from herself and then stood again, distressed heavily. "I need to tell her I want out. I must leave the project, I cannot do this anymore with her."

Fareeha looked confused, lack of information riddling her brow, but she did not want to ask too deeply. She followed what she could without begging for more information and gave Angela a reassuring hand on her trembling shoulder. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"She… and I have had sex, horrible and disgusting sex, but she hurts me… Makes me feel like I'm her pet. All she's interested in is my mind!" Angela burst, throwing her fist in the air and begging to weep. "She's insane! I swear she would… Take my brain from inside my skull and keep it for her own! Necromancer! She plays with money and medicine and insists she's helping the world when all she wants is fame and power! She's insane and I am tired of being her plaything! Her sexual toy!

"I don't want to keep being controlled by her Fareeha. I cannot take it." Angela expressed, breaking down there and then and running into Fareeha's arms and holding her close. She wept into the tanned angel's chest, cuddling her as close as she could and sobbing.

Fareeha seethed, holding Angela lovingly but boiling inside. Her obsession and desire for justice was controlling her conscious thought. "Don't worry, I'll handle this."

Angela gasped into Fareeha's chest. "What are you going to do?" She asked, still shaking in Fareeha's arms. Seeds of justice planted in the tanned woman's mind.

"I am going to have a little talk with this Moira," Fareeha confessed, her brows furrowing strongly. "Wait here."

Fareeha walked out of the room, storming out of it like the harsh winds of her homeland. Ana had always taught her to defend those who needed it, to fight for justice and the goodness of all things. Fareeha was a true humanitarian and she felt a pull on her heart when thinking of Angela looking so scared and distressed. She was being used and abused by this Moira and there was no way in this world or any other that a woman like Fareeha Amari would stand for it. As she crossed the ballroom she made calls to her security brothers - Gabriel, Jesse, Jack and Lena, telling them to look over her and to make sure Moira was scoped and under tabs. They aided her in finding her and keeping eyes on both of them. Jesse made a sly remark and wished her luck, while Morrison expressed his disagreement of this. But Fareeha knew in her mind that Angela needed freeing, that she needed support. And that Fareeha wanted Angela safe, wanted her protected. She got Reyes to defer to the bathroom, to watch the entrance just in case while she dealt with the Irish broad. Moia was enjoying some of the prawns at the buffet table.

"Excuse me." Fareeha engaged with her, tapping her on her broad shoulder.

Moira turned around prawn in her mouth and an entitled look on her mildly drunken face. She had abandoned her search for little Angela and was gorging herself like a pig woman. "Oh hello," she swallowed and looked slyly at Fareeha, admiring her toned arms and bold, striking look. "Who might you be?" Moira asked, patronisingly.

"I'm with security," Fareeha told her, hips cocked to one side and her knee wanting so much to make contact with this woman's gut. She thought Moira looked so stuck up in her suit. "I just came across a young woman who claimed you'd been taking advantage of her."

"Oh!" Moira yelled, a little too audible, smiling with sharp teeth. "You must have found my colleague, Angela," Moira recognised, making the sny and horrific joke. Fareeha felt sick and clenched her fists into wrecking balls - Jack and Jesse got ready to intervene as Fareeha was not the most collected woman when she was antagonised. Her shows of mercy were stayed and justice consumed her like a spirit. "Oh don't worry, we just had a little argument. Trust me, it's nothing to be concerned about. Where is she, dear?" Moira asked.

Fareeha slapped Moira across the face, giving her no quarter or mercy, she just slapped her, hard and fast, before the ginger could even comprehend what happened. And it was hard indeed, knocking Moira over the table and messing her suit with the stains of a dozen palettes of finger food. It knocked her completely sober and Fareeha was ready to pounce on her, to beat the living shit out of her until she could not stand from it.

But she stayed her hands further, keeping her fists clenched. She was so tempted to tell her to stay on that table.

Moira rolled, and fell to the floor, clutching her face, cheek instantly swollen and her expression flipped from arrogant to shocked and ashamed. "You… you dare?! Who do you think you are?! Do you have any idea who the hell I am?!" She roared, her lion unleashed. She was on her feet quickly and glaring down at Fareeha, taller than her in her heeled shoes. Moira looked like a snarling dragon - Fareeha knew what a real dragon looked like however, and he was far more honourable than a woman like Moira.

An abuser of vulnerable and incredibly women.

"Frankly, I don't think anyone will give a damn," Fareeha spat at Moira, shoving her back gently with defiance. "You are an abuser, and I swear by my namesake, that as long as I walk this earth, you will never see Angela Ziegler's face again. If you try to contact her once more, I promise you - my organisation will bury you so hard you'll wish we knew what mercy meant, Miss."

Moira was left in shock, stunned by what Fareeha had said and done to her, and suddenly all eyes were on the ginger. She had been exposed, and all that was on her mind was two things; how far had her career nosedived, and how best to destroy Fareeha Amari.

But Fareeha made her way back to the bathroom, feeling proud and assured that her mother would feel the same. She would have to tell her tomorrow, but Angela needed her more just now. She gave Reyes a high five as she made it to the door. "Damn fine work, Pharah," Gabriel told her and nodded, leaving his post to rejoin the party.

"We need to find you a new callsign, Reyes. I'm thinking 'Reaper' does not do you justice."

"Fareeha?" Angela asked upon hearing the door and seeing the tanned flesh and stunning blue dress walk in with a smile on her face. Angela was still trembling though, her voice weak. "Is it… over?"

Fareeha went over to Angela and hugged her closely, embracing her. "Yes, Angela, it's over. That woman won't bother you again. That is a promise. From me and my organisation." She told the blonde, feeling so much better and also feeling the newly reinforced warmth coming from Angela in her arms.

Angela sighed happily. "Thank you. I can never thank you enough for this."

"Come on, I think you need some fresh air," Fareeha assured her blonde friend, taking her hand just like that shining armoured knight Angela had begged the cosmos so much to deliver to her. Fareehe was that, and so much more.

Angela held her hand. "I think you are right."

The two of them walked out of the room together, Angela thankful for Fareeha's help and feeling something new sparking between them. She did not know, but whatever happened, Angela was happy to have Fareeha in her life again. Happier than she had ever been in her short and stressful life. As soon as they reached the balcony again, Angela knew what she wanted.

"Fareeha? Could you close your eyes for a moment? I need some privacy for just a second." She asked politely, her wings spreading again of their own volition as she backed up against the railing. Fareeha remained close to the door and closed her eyes according to the blonde's request. She was expecting the angel to take in the warm night air.

What Fareeha did not expect, was for Angela to cup her cheeks, and kiss her closely, like Angela had never kissed anyone in her life so closely before.

xXx

 

 **Author's note:** And here's some Pharmercy Hurt/Comfort fluff thing. AU wise, this is kind of an Canon-ish AU, in that it has overwatch and futuristic tech but stuff isn't exactly the same. Anyway, I've agreed with Val to make a couple more chapters for this one and a few for Ballet AU, but don't expect them to be giant super long fics.

See ya next time! ^^


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